


Waiting Room

by decembersiris



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Carlos is clueless, Carlos loves Jill, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jill loves Carlos, Prompt Fic, Self-Sacrifice, everyone knows, secret relationship not so secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decembersiris/pseuds/decembersiris
Summary: Jill ends up in the hospital, and Carlos is left to stew in his feelings and guilt.
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Jill Valentine
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	Waiting Room

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt I received from a friend on Discord. He asked for Jill sacrificing herself for Carlos but with fluff at the end and while I do not write fluff often, I couldn't pass up the challenged! Thank you Robin for the prompt, hope you like it!

Carlos had always hated hospitals. The white walls and blinding lights, various pictures—always those fucking cottages in that fantastical forest setting—hung with the intent to create a sense of welcome and calm, the damn constant cold meant to drive out sickness but only served to freeze him where he stood. Doctors and nurses always rushing to the endless barrage of beeps of their pagers and patients’ rooms, and others frantically running out gathering equipment to prepare for exams and surgeries. It’s not the needles, tubes, scalpels, or other various surgical equipment that set him on edge, nor was it sickness or the thought of death, of lives lost that made him uncomfortable. No, those things were concrete, they all had a reason and an outcome. It was the _waiting_. The stewing in the absolute unknown was what made his blood course with anxiety, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He had half a mind to leave the waiting room, to step out into the cool night air, and fill his lungs with the winter frost to chill the nerves that burned throughout him.

But he could not move, forcing himself to cement to the cheap navy blue cushion, the one of many seats, in the waiting room. And as he sat, his feet growing roots into the white tile floor, his elbows upon his knees, and his fingers to his lips, he fixed his gaze upon the floor. He never expected to find himself here, not on this side of the operating room. Given the nature of his job, an agent of the B.S.A.A., he should always be prepared to come, but not now, not for this reason, _never_. 

He bit into his nail, his teeth piercing and tearing off the hardened cells that grew just off his finger, far enough for him to fixate on it, for it to bother him. He gnawed on it until the nail was shortened to his nail bed, and when he could go no further, he went anyway. He pulled his fingers away and quickly spat out the fragment he chewed off but returned his fingers to his mouth, fishing for another nail.

Chris, on the other hand, was a pacer. He would never admit to his nervous pacing,—doesn’t matter that Carlos had been observing him for hours—and certainly would never admit to his nerves either. Carlos watched him walk from the reception desk to the door on the opposite side of the room on the same wall since they arrived. His pacing didn’t bother Carlos. Gave him something else to focus on other than the gunshots that echoed in his mind. He listened to the heavy clomping of Chris’s boots as he trudged a trench into the floor.

Other than Chris’s near jog around the waiting room, the room itself was quiet aside from the tapping of the keyboard from the reception desk and an occasional ringing from a phone. After a moment, minute, mile, Carlos hadn’t a clue, didn’t care, Chris sighed, a long exasperation of frustration, confusion, and ire. He turned to face Carlos.

“You gotta tell me again,” he said, his strides long and weighted as he made his few steps back to Carlos. “Tell me again. What happened, what happened?”

Chris slid into a chair with a single chair between them. Carlos hadn’t finished the nail he was working on, but dropped his hand anyway, allowing his thumb to graze over the hanging nail to toy with it, slowly working it off.

Carlos took a deep breath. He expected this. He didn’t like having to retell the story. He’d rather forget it, burn it from his memory along with the pain, horror, guilt, and rage he felt. But his friend was struggling to process the events, and to be honest, so was Carlos. But how could he start? What could he say? Struggling to collect his thoughts, he steeled himself against the emotions that clawed up his throat, leaving burning tracks in their wake.

He swallowed and opened his mouth, testing the words against his tongue. “We gave you the clear from the south side of the village that Jill and I were investigating. All the BOWs were taken out and we got the call that the village was secured. We were heading back to the village center to reconvene with you and Barry. And... We were attacked.”

Chris nodded, “When you failed to respond after telling us you were under attack, Barry and I headed that way. We found the bodies. U.S.S. is what it seemed. But you didn’t respond until you had taken Jill to the trucks. How did Jill get shot?”

Carlos bristled, his mouth suddenly dry. “Someone was on the roof.”

Chris scoffed, frustrating seeping between his teeth, “You didn’t see him? She didn’t?” Pausing a moment, staring at whatever he found interesting on the floor, Carlos could see he was seething. Whether it was at Umbrella, himself, Carlos, the gunman, or even Jill, Carlos did not know. But whatever Chris’s rage was for, he did not say it, and instead exhaled deeply through his nostrils as he nestled back into the chair.

Not a moment after the surgeon pushed open the waiting room doors. Immediately both men crossed the space between them and the doctor, and Chris was ready to hammer the doctor with questions. Carlos, on the other hand, waited patiently, silently, his ears tuned into the words he expected, the words that were sure to mortify him.

The surgeon informed them that Jill had received multiple bullet wounds to shoulder, collar, and earlobe. While they were nonfatal and her heat remained intact, one was enough to shatter collarbone and the other disfigure her ear. As the doctor went through the details of Jill’s state, her recovery, and next-step procedures, Carlos struggled to concentrate, to fully wrap his head around what the doctor was saying. All he could hear was the word “nonfatal”, an endless repeat of that word that failed to provide the relief it should.

Carlos didn’t realize the man before hadn’t even finished speaking when he said, “When can we see her?”

The surgeon, startled by Carlos who had been quiet up until this moment, and slightly taken aback by the rushed tone of his voice, replied, “She is unconscious right now, and she needs her rest. I don’t suggest seeing her for at least a few hours and even then, she’ll probably be sleeping. If you decide to wait, I will have the nurse inform you when you can see her.”

When the doctor left, Carlos felt something unhinged from within his bones, something like a snap that came loose from his spine that spread like crackling ice throughout his skeleton. Suddenly feeling hot despite his frozen bones, he returned to his seat, an uncontrollable shudder raking over him. Chris remained standing, pacing as he rubbed his jaw and neck as if in thought. A ring erupted from his pocket that startled both of them and Carlos eyed him as the man fumbled for his cell in his back pocket. When he answered it, Carlos could hear Barry on the other end.

From where Carlos sat, the conversation was nothing more than a couple of yeses, and uh-huhs sprinkled with a few coherent sentences about Jill and her recovery and a grunt or two. When he hung up, Chris stepped over to Carlos whose eyes remained downcast.

“Barry stayed behind to report the mission and the incident of your attack and let the others know what happened. He wanted to come see Jill but I told him no one can see her for a few hours at least.” He said, his voice steadier, more confident now that the worst was over, “I don’t know, he might be on his way now, he might show up later.”

Carlos nodded, not because he cared whether Barry came or didn’t, but because he felt he needed to respond, anything to halt that numbing feeling that snaked through his veins.

But still Chris stood and still he paced, his fingers rapping against his thigh, “She won’t be up for a while.” He said, reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, pulling them up to Carlos’s view, “Wanna smoke?”

Carlos shook his head, “I’ll stay.”

Chris did not press him further, and Carlos was mildly grateful. 

The man sighed, tapping his finger against his thigh. “I can’t be here right now. I can’t just wait. I need some air.”

“That’s my line.” Carlos forced the joke out but it fumbled and splat on the white tile. He’d kick it away if he could. Thankfully Chris didn’t acknowledge it or didn’t hear it, and so he went on, “No need to explain yourself. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

When he left, Carlos leaned forward in his chair again and exhaled deeply. Jill’s going to be alright, he told himself. But his insides tingled and twitched with anticipation and guilt. It shouldn’t be like this.

But it was, he reminded himself, nothing to change that fact. But she’ll be alright. She’ll be okay. She’ll wake up just as fiery as she’d always been. She’ll be Jill again.

As Carlos sat, counting the seconds into minutes into hours, his gaze upon the clock as if with the intent to set it aflame while it in turn rendered him frozen to his chair, he played back the events of that night again. The team had their mission: clear that European village of BOWs Carlos, Jill, Chris, and Barry had parked the two trucks in the woods, just outside the village entrance to the west. Upon entering the village they split into two teams to cover more ground as fast as possible. Cerberus were rampant throughout the village but other than that, there wasn’t much else, at least not in Carlos and Jill’s direction. A flawless mission from their perspective, which were far and few between but a welcome relief nonetheless. When their job was finished, Jill confirmed with Chris to meet at the center of the village by the fountain, and from there they would head back to the trucks.

But before they could make it back, Carlos and Jill were ambushed by a barrage of gunfire. They took cover where they could, Carlos at a narrow alleyway on one side of the street, and Jill behind the corner of a building on the other.

Carlos made the call through his headset, “Chris! Barry! We’re taking fire on the south side! We—“

“Carlos!” Jill’s voice rang out, tearing his attention from the rapid calls from Chris and Barry.

Staring through the sniper scope on his rifle, he picked off a few men in the distance and Jill got one that had had managed to sneak his way toward them. Jill’s bullet pieced through the man’s helmet before he had the chance to raise his gun. One by one they picked off their assailants together, and as Carlos had his eyes on the last one, his finger greedy upon the trigger, he thought he heard Jill call out his name. Something wet and warm coated his face as he let the bullet fly. Carlos turned his head, his blood racing, and there was Jill standing before him, her back to him, her arms outstretched as she staggered backwards. She collapsed into his arms, and he screamed her name. That was when Carlos’s eyes shot upward, and he saw man in black military garb that had taken to the roof, his gun fixed on him. But before he could pull the trigger, Carlos, clutching Jill with one hand, lifted his rifle with the other and fired. The man dropped his gun and clasped at his throat before collapsing on the roof.

The gunfire ceased and Carlos heaved and panted. Red soaked his hands, his clothes, and Jill lay in his arms, her eyes closed. He counted three wounds, one to her shoulder, the other her chest, and lastly— _oh God, no_ —her head.

Carlos’s heart sank to his stomach and his blood turned cold, “Jill, Jill. Come on Jill, don’t do this to me.” 

He brought his face to her parted lips and pressed his fingers to her jugular. A faint puff of her breath and a low pulse against his fingertips. She was alive, barely. He moved her hair, beautiful brown now tainted scarlet where the blood seeped. The top corner of her earlobe, a large chunk of it, was torn. Carlos swallowed to subdue his panic, his fear.

“You’re not gonna die on me,” he said, hardening against the shaking of his voice.

Cradling her in his arms, Carlos rose to his feet, his eyes unable to avoid the horrid red mess at his feet. Without thought, he took off running, ignoring the calls from his headset that now dangled around his his neck. He didn’t know when he had yanked himself free of it, and the buzz of their calls didn’t matter, not now, not while Jill’s life was fading.

It wasn’t after he had patched her up with the medical supplies in the truck, not until he was driving off that he called in to the others, informing them what had happened. They scrambled on the other, various shouts and curses and then Barry exclaimed, “Why didn’t you wait for us!”

“Because every second I spend waiting for you is Jill’s death sentence!” Carlos yelled back, “The mission’s done, finish up whatever you need, but I’m taking Jill to the hospital!”

Carlos tore off his headset and flung it onto the passenger seat. His blood boiled, spiders beneath his skin, pulling the tendons and muscles and in his fury, he punched the steering wheel.

The drive back to the closet city with a hospital was long. Or quicker than he thought. He couldn’t be sure, not while every second was a pendulum swing, and his mind was a haze of anxiety and terror. He’d look back at Jill from his rearview mirror every so often to check on her, the steady rise and fall of her chest brought some comfort but not enough to keep his fear at bay. Not when he saw blood coating his cheek and neck. He had no cuts, felt no wounds. Pushing the thoughts to the back of his head, he wiped away Jill’s blood with the back of his hand.

Solace struggled to surface when he reached the hospital, when the medics took Jill away. He left her in their hands, watching as her barely conscious form was lifted onto the stretcher and rolled into the next room. His hands shook, shoulders quivered, and unable to process all that he felt, he slumped into the waiting room chair with nothing to do but wait.

And now, as Carlos waited for the okay from the nurse to see Jill, all he could think of was her face. The scrunched look of pain riddled across her features, the blood endlessly bubbling from her wounds, wounds she shouldn’t have to bare but did. Guilt hovered over him like an ex lover, smiling in his shadow. He held his face in his hands, emotions overwhelming him as he thought of all he wanted to say, as he thought of her face, her smile, how close he had come to never seeing that again, or feel the light that radiated from her like a gentle, inviting hand.

“Jill...” He whispered.

_It’s my fault. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry Jill._ He shuddered and felt hot tears upon his cheeks. He remembered the blood, stark rubies against porcelain skin growing sickly green by the minute. He remembered her hair painted with it, and the sudden absolute horror at the thought of holding her in his arms one last time. If only he had seen the man initially, if only he had been more cautious, if only it was him that stood between her and the gun, if only it was him with the wounds... He would do it over if he could. He’d take the hit for her a thousand times over. She’s gonna be alright, he reminded himself. She’ll fight again. She’ll live. For his guilt, his grief, for her pain, her recovery, he wept silently.

—

Carlos curled his hands into fits, fighting the urge to bite at his nails as he watched Jill’s chest rise and fall with restful ease. The nurse had permitted him in, informing him that she would awaken any minute. He texted Chris while he waited, telling him that he could come see her, but he hadn’t responded, and that was minutes ago.

He wouldn’t let that concern him though, staring at the IV that was inserted into her wrist. His eyes followed the plastic wire up her arm until his gaze landed on the white cotton pad that was the shoulder rest of her sling. Her left arm hung in the sling to keep her shoulder intact in the socket. On her left side, peeking out from the opening of her hospital gown, he could see the gauze tapped over her collarbone. That gauze was also wrapped around her head at her left ear and from that one, Carlos could see spots of blood. Sighing, he focused his attention on her sleeping face.

She looked so calm, the absence of harsh lines upon her brow, the softness if her eyelashes grazing her cheeks, the color, the light blush of life returned to them. Her lips, nearly blue when he brought her, were pink and chapped. How often he had stroked those lovely lips with his thumb, left his fingerprints on her cheeks, stole kisses in the quiet of the night. And how close he had come to losing her to his memories. He would smother her when she awoke, if she’d let him, plant kisses upon her lips, her brow, her eyes, and tell her how sorry he was. But would she allow it now, that vulnerability, that affection so open and public that Chris himself might walk in on them? No, he decided, that wasn’t what they were, what their trysts were about, nothing deeper than that. Not like he wanted.

Jill stirred then and Carlos straightened, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the fluorescent lights of her room. When her blues eyes found his, he smiled.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, “How’re you feeling?”

“Peachy,” she groaned weakly, but a small smile still played on her lips. “You?”

He told her he was fine, that he got away unscathed, trying to make light of the situation as was his way.

“But your eyes are red,” she returned.

He hesitated a moment before saying, “It’s nothing.”

She looked to tired to press him and the mild embarrassment he felt rolled off his shoulders.

“Where is everyone? Are they okay?”

Carlos nodded, “They should be here soon to see you.”

Jill remained quiet, and he could see there was something on her mind, something she wanted to say. But he did not pressure her, and simply stared down at her hand. He wanted to take it in his own, to stroke his numb over her knuckles, but his hand remained on his knee, fingers curled.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and Carlos looked up at her in surprise. “I must have worried you.”

“You did,” he wouldn’t lie to her, “But I knew you would make it. You always do. You can handle anything.” He paused then, tempted to pick at the cuticle on his thumbnail. “I’m sorry too.”

She frowned, “For what?”

“Because you’re the one in a hospital bed right now.” His voice rose at his own frustration, “I should have seen him perched on the roof. I had the clearer viewpoint. I fucked up, and you’re suffering for my failure—“

“Carlos,” Her tone was stern, her eyes closed—she was not ready for such conversations, but still she went on, “It’s done. I’m alive. You’re alive. That’s all that matters right now.”

Carlos allowed himself pause, for her sake, but his mind was whirling with questions left unanswered, uncertainties that would drive him mad. He glanced down at his feet. He shouldn’t ask, not now, but his mouth moved ahead of himself, “Then, please tell me, why did you do it?”

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip, “Does anyone know?”

“That you deliberately took three bullets for me?” He was more harsh than he intended. Pausing with a frown, he calmed himself, “Chris asked, but I didn’t tell the whole truth.”

He waited, waited for her response, waited for the silence between them to die, still it clung to the cold hospital air. She didn’t speak.

He looked back up at her to see her eyes had opened, a gleam within them, a look of hesitation as if struggling for the right words. She then bit her lip again and turned her head away, avoiding his gaze. He thought for a moment that she wouldn’t confide in him. But then she opened her mouth, and he was scarcely sure he heard her, “I was scared to lose you.”

The air had been sucked from his lungs, and he could hear his heart in his ears, “... Jill?”

“By the time I saw him he was already aiming for you,” she continued slowly. “My gun jammed. I called your name, but you didn’t hear me... I didn’t think, I just moved. And I blacked out after that.”

“But...” He was afraid to fathom it, unable to shake his shame and guilt, “Why risk your life for me?”

A scoff slipped from her lips, something soft and sweet, entirely different from her hardened tone from earlier. She turned back to him and smiled lightly. “You’re not that dense Carlos.”

He was taken aback, confusion spread across his features that rattled his brain. She could see his uncertainty, her steel blue eyes piercing through him, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. But still, he said nothing, his mind unable to process anything for himself, and Jill submitted to his dumbfounded look.

“I love you, you idiot.”

At first, he didn’t realize he had been holding his breath. Something had shifted within him—nothing like an unshackling from his bones, nothing like poison through his blood, something soft, something warm—the sweet caress of spring engulfing his heart and all the fear and doubt released from an endless winter. Relief came too with his even breath, his grin spreading from ear to ear. He tongue grew fat and stupid in his mouth, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak, afraid his own words would betray him.

It was a stupid thing to do, he wanted to say, but her eyes told him she knew it well. She needn’t any lectures from him, and he had no right to give her any. If he were in her position, he would take those bullets every time. And yet here she was, waiting for his response. And here he was, making an ass of himself.

His heart swelled, “Jill, I—“

“Jill!” Came a cheer, and Chris and Barry entered the room.

Jill grimaced against their roar but smiled nonetheless, “Hey guys.”

“Too good to reply to my text or what?” Carlos asked him.

“Piss off,” Chris said lightheartedly with a smile. Carlos smirked at him and Chris finished, “Cell’s dead, Barry ate up the juice with his million calls.”

“Yeah, yeah screw you too, Chris,” returned Barry.

Chris brought with him flowers, a “Get Well Soon” balloon, and an elated grin spread across his face. Carlos feigned excitement, mildly fuming from the rug that was ripped from under him by his comrades. But at the same time, as the other two crowded around Jill, his irritation dissolved in the warmth and light of her smile. Yes, he decided, he could wait, but not too long.

“How are you feeling?” Chris asked.

“Could be worse,” she replied simply. “Drugs help.”

“You had us worried,” said Barry, “Don’t pull another stupid stunt like that! Getting yourself shot’s for amateurs!”

“No promises,” she said, and Carlos did not miss that glance she passed his way.

Everyone stayed and talked with her for as long as time permitted, and Carlos felt himself full to burst, an itch under his skin and a burning beneath his tongue. He wanted the others away, gone in a puff of smoke, just to have that moment alone with her again. But he waited, silently, a pleasant smile on his face as he listened to their conversations, joining when appropriate; his eyes never left her face, thinking of what to say to her when his chance came.

And when the nurse came, she informed them that she needed to check up on Jill. She kicked them out, informing them that they could come back in a couple of hours. Carlos seized the opportunity. He wouldn’t wait, not for this. As the two men grumbled their way out the door, Carlos lingered in the nurse’s shadow before turning back to Jill. She looked at his curiously, a small smile on her lips. Damn it all, he’d forgo romantic notions just this once to tell her now, and hang the spectators. He leaned forward and placed a kiss upon her lips. It was swift and sweet, and when he pulled away, his lips lingered at her ear, his breath a ghost of tenderness in the words he whispered.

“I love you.”

He pulled away from her, not hearing the nurse that called for him, watching as Jill turned to look up at him. She grinned, her cheeks flushed, the lightest tint of pink. Lovely. How dearly he meant those words, smiling back at her, feeling his own cheeks heat as his heart raced. He didn’t want to walk away, but he did, his eyes lingering on hers before turning away and heading out the door.

His comrades were nearly out of the hospital by the time he caught up to them. When he met their speed, he could see that both were smirking.

“Took you long enough.” Chris said, “What happened? Have something to say you couldn’t say in front of us?”

He frowned, “What are you talking about?”

They had stepped out of the hospital, greeted by the morning sun, and Carlos imagined escorting Jill from the hospital, watching her greet the daylight.

Barry playfully punched Carlos’s arm, “You tell her you love her?”

Carlos’s head tilted, rubbing his lips together to hide his surprise, “What?”

“Or did she tell you first,” came Chris, his smiled crooked.

Carlos resorted to shoving his hands in his pockets. He maintained an air of ignorance, of indifference to their inquisitive, suspicious gazes. Both sets of eyes narrowed on him for long than he felt comfortable, “Come on guys, I was just making sure it was okay if I left.”

“She said it first,” Chris said.

“You’re full of shit Chris,” Barry snapped.

“Fork over the money asshole, it’s written all over his face!”

And then it clicked. Neither men were ever this interested in Carlos’s social life, let alone his love life. And yet, they had the nerve to make a bet revolving him and Jill. He wanted to laugh but still found himself wondering how they had found out in the first place. He was never one to kiss and tell, and he would never betray Jill’s loyalty, not when she asked him to keep things hushed for a time. Did she let loose her own lips? Didn’t sound like her. Did he give them away somehow?

But, now, did it really matter?

Chris and Barry continued their squabble, bulldogs over a chew toy, oblivious to the man who made up half their bet.

And Carlos was fine with that as he walked with them. He thought of what he was going to eat, debating between cheap fast food or if there was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant close by. Jill likes Thai, perhaps he could bring her takeout. Those sweet words he had longed to hear from her hummed in his memory, and he fantasized taking her out to dinner as a couple, his companions’ bickering far away as they all walked together. Carlos thought of Jill, of her smile.

“See, look at him! Jill must have said it first.”

He didn’t care who said it, didn’t care to hide his smile. His imaginings went on of him and Jill. More than anything, he couldn’t wait to free her from the hospital. And take her on that date.


End file.
